


Avaaz

by SuperRedRobin (SweetFanfics)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/SuperRedRobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sighs softly, focusing on Tim’s voice as he sits right beside him and narrates on. He tries to imagine the wolves and the snow but all he can see is Tim’s peaceful face as he reads aloud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avaaz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [animegoil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/animegoil/gifts).



> Tim is reading from The Call of the Wild. Avaaz: Urdu for ‘Voice’. Based on [this beautiful fanart.](http://animegoil.tumblr.com/post/17253425379/the-fastest-way-to-get-kon-to-fall-asleep-is-for)

Warm fingers press lightly into his ankle as he kneels on the mattress. They tease the edge of the gray sweats, stroking skin and cloth in a sleepy, lazy gesture. His voice continued steadily despite the soft caress but a small smile creeps up Tim’s lips.  
  


“There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise.”  
  


A hand shifts behind a reclining head, moving between the pillow and the skull for support. The finger’s keep rolling small circles in their place.  
  


“And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.”  
  


Tim teases the corner of the page with a fingertip, eyes following every word even as he keeps track of Kon’s every movement. He hears a soft rustle and makes out Kon’s left knee jerking slightly when his foot twitches against the sheets.  
  


“This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier, war-mad on a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight.”  
  


The fingers have stopped their movement and rest lazily against the curve of his heel. Tim jerks slightly at the vaguely ticklish feel of Kon’s fingers dragging against the sole of his feet.  
  


“He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time.”  
  


Kon doesn’t note the hitch and jerk in Tim’s voice, opting instead to close his eyes. He sighs softly, focusing on Tim’s voice as he sits right beside him and narrates on. He tries to imagine the wolves and the snow but all he can see is Tim’s peaceful face as he reads aloud. And he begins to breathe deeper.  
  


“He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly under the stars and over the face of dead matter that did not move.”  
  


Tim looks up when he feels Kon’s fingers sliding down to the bed. And he smiles warmly at Kon as he sleeps. He carefully shuffles back, out of the reach of Kon’s stretched out hand, reaches for the bookmark placed on the side table and slips it into place.  
  


He closes the book and puts it back in it’s place beside the alarm clock. As quietly as possible, he walks over to the light switch and with a flick, the room becomes dark. Following his memory, he counts the steps back to the bed…one, two, three, four and a half.  
  


Grateful of the fact that it’s summer and he won’t have to worry about slipping Kon underneath the covers, Tim slips into the space between Kon’s stretched out arm and his body. He shifts into a more comfortable position - an arm thrown over Kon’s waist, a leg half resting over Kon’s thigh, head pillowed on a broad chest- and closes his eyes.  
  


And dreams.


End file.
